


Pinocchio

by FanCattt



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor Deserves Happiness, Detective Noir, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Inspired by Detroit: Become Human, Protective Hank Anderson, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Soft Connor (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:36:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanCattt/pseuds/FanCattt
Summary: The Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fancattts-fictionSpecial Agent Y/F/N Y/L/N has been called in to work with the Detroit police to act as a counterterrorism advisor and investigator. A robotic, logical thinker, she finds herself caught off guard by the relationship she begins to build with another robotic, logical thinker: Connor, the android sent by CyberLife. As their friendship deepens and their story grows, they find something in one another that neither of them has ever had.This story begins at Stratford Tower and continues along with the rest of the game. I'm experimenting a little bit with a 2nd person/3rd person mixed-perspective. This is my second story on AO3, so if you're unsure of whether or not you will like my style, feel free to check out Purgatory.





	1. Chance of Survival

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends!
> 
> I'm excited to debut my second fiction! I've had this idea banging (wink) around in my head for a few weeks. I've been playing the game for a hot minute now, and I'm absolutely in love with it. I hope I can share that love with you guys...
> 
> Enjoy!  
> -S

You walked into Stratford Tower with your eyes level, footsteps silent, strides wide. Your heart rate was even. Your breathing was calm.

You walked into Stratford Tower like you had a secret.

Voices buzzed around you, men and women in plastic suits worked to scan the first floor. Yellow markers littered the smooth tile. At the entrance, at the desk, by the hallway. The whole place was ablaze with commotion. Employees were being herded towards the exit while androids were taken to another room. You did a self-check despite knowing you were prepared. Somewhere, you heard someone crying.

_Badge, holster, gun, stunner, scanner, wallet, phone…_

This series of previously checked boxes ran through your head as you made your way to the elevator. Three people joined you, probably headed up to give reports or continue their own investigations. You wondered if one of them was doing fingerprints, and if they’d been re-assigned yet. The edges of your lips turned up slightly.

_Androids…_

The elevator launched to the top floor of the building. The two suited people to your right were making notes on their tablets, cross checking photos and written reports, while the other teetered from foot to foot nervously. You examined his shoes, his hands, and his neck. He looked like a naked man who was standing on a frozen lake: unprepared to swim, but more importantly, unprepared to freeze. You wanted to offer him a word of advice, but you couldn’t sympathize with him.

“You ought to be writing.” You asked him. He turned to you, startled.

“I’m sorry?”

“Reporters usually record everything. It helps create an environment for the reader to engage with.”

“How did you-“

Before he could finish, the elevator doors opened and you stepped out, not bothering to let him finish. You walked slowly, examining the hallway. A few bodies lay on the ground, surrounded by pairs of forensics investigators. They swabbed and picked and pried like vultures. You figured it best to observe and continue. You took note of the nature in which everyone was killed, noting as well the number of cameras, screens, chairs, entrances, and blood stains.

_Blue blood…_

You knelt down briefly to inspect a pool of it before continuing through the small two-doored entrance hallway. Your eyes fell immediately on the screen through the doorway. You took another look at the room, cataloguing the evidence, before walking in. The face of an android, unmasked, was frozen above you. It wore an employee’s uniform, which you knew immediately did not belong to it. You were unusually drawn in, finding your feet moving without your mind telling them to do so. Its eyes were different colors, its LED gone. And its face… It wasn’t default. It was individual.

“There she is, Christ, Y/L/N, you couldn’t get here any slower could you.” A voice behind you pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to see Richard Perkins sauntering in your direction. His hands were in his pockets, his chin down. He looked upset, but then again, he always looked upset.

“I’m sorry, I got here as quickly as possible. I was working on a case in Manhattan when they called me.”

“Manhattan? Why?”

“I can’t divulge that information to you, Perkins.”

“Still running then, huh? Shame. No good keeping you here, then,” he stood in front of you now, arms crossed.

“I passed it off to a colleague in Washington. I’m all yours.”

He scoffed, “I get it, you’re in high-demand.”

You waved off his sarcastic comment. “Are we working with DPD on this?”

He leaned back on his heels, “Straight to business, alright. Let me take you on a tour. And, yes, unfortunately. We don’t have the resources here to be able to conduct a full investigation without their _assistance_ ,” he air-quoted the word ‘assistance,’ enunciating it. You followed him around the room and he took you through each piece of evidence, allowing you to put together what happened without any bias. The situation came to you with ease, and you found yourself understanding quickly why it was so important to investigate with haste.

“And the roof?” You asked, seeing the corner door wide open. 

“We’re still picking things apart up there. If you want to take a look, I’d do it now. Any minute, some guys from-“

“Agent Perkins!” He turned away from you, his attention drawn by a young officer on the other side of the room. He walked over, and you watched as he greeted an older man and an android. The man, who you assumed to be a detective, wore a tattered pair of jeans and a blue and orange striped button down. His beard was untrimmed, hair barely combed. 

Beside him stood a mirror opposite. A young, dark haired android (who was being insulted by Perkins at the moment). He had dark brown eyes and, from what you could see at this distance, a coin, which he twirled in his hand. You wondered why he did this.

_Since when do I call androids ‘he’?_

The lapse in your usual android pronouns shocked even yourself. Something about this once was different…

Your head tilted to the side as you approached, letting your eyes wander over the RK800. You’d never seen this kind of model before.

“…androids investigating androids, great.” Perkins rolled his eyes, letting out a weary sigh.

“Interesting, isn’t it,” you added as you stepped towards the group. Their eyes all landed on you. “Almost like humans investigating humans.”

The android smiled, but quickly hid it as the older man introduced himself.

“I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” he nodded towards you.

“Special Agent Y/F/N Y/L/N. I’m here on behalf of the BAU.”

“That’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, Lieutenant,” Perkins noted, his tone revealing his emotions. The Lieutenant rolled his eyes.

You shifted so that you were facing the android, flickering your eyes over its face and shoulders. “And this?”

“My name is Connor, I’m the android sent by CyberLife,” he perked up. He ran his eyes over your face, scanning quickly. 

**_Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N_ **

**_Born MM/DD/YYYY._ **

**_Height._ **

**_5’8”_ **

**_Weight._ **

**_138_ **

**_Measurements._ **

**_Size 7.5 shoe_ **

**_36-29-37 {(# &!^@%)}_ **

**_Career: Federal Bureau of Investigation: Behavioral Analysis Unit: Counterterrorism: Negotiator, Psychologist, Analyst, Investigator_ **

**_Parents:_ **

**_Mother: Location {???}, Birthplace {Monterey, CA}, Deceased_ **

**_Deceased: Buried at Cedar Grove Cemetery_ **

**_Father: Location {California}, Birthplace {Portland, ME}, Living_ **

“I’ve never seen your model before.”

“I’m a prototype.”

“Peculiar,” you noted the flash of yellow as his LED processed something. For some reason, it made your mouth a little dry. You blinked, returning your attention to the Lieutenant. “I imagine you understand the situation?”

“I haven’t had the chance to get a good look at the room, but yes,” he gestured to the screen, “Crazy shit…”

“An accurate assessment, Lieutenant,” Connor said. His eyes shifted to you quickly enough to catch your smile.

“Shouldn’t you be lickin’ the floor or some shit?” Anderson spat. Connor nodded, then proceeded to make his way around the room similar to how you had. You took out your tablet and checked the evidence, making sure you hadn’t missed anything. Seeing that you hadn’t, you decided to make your way up to the roof. 

As you walked to the door, you watched Connor work. He moved in a determined and mechanic manner, the brown tuft of hair above his forehead swaying with every movement, his hands working diligently. You stared as he knelt down to inspect a puddle of blue blood on the ground near the rooftop door. He dipped his fingers into it, then placed them delicately into his mouth. His LED turned yellow.

“Fucking disgusting, isn’t it…” The Lieutenant trudged up beside you.

“He’s analyzing the evidence, finding the model of the android?”

“Or so he says.”

Connor stood and made his way over to you.

“I don’t kink shame,” you added with a smirk before stepping through the rooftop doorway and making your way up the stairs.

Something about the way your hips swayed as you walked up warmed Connor’s biocomponents. He watched as you took in the information around you, not bothering to wait for him and Hank as you reached the door to the roof.

Hank chuckled lightly at your comment, “I like this one.”

“I can see why,” he mumbled, his diagnostics running checks to make sure nothing in him was malfunctioning.

The brisk air hit your skin, snow falling lightly. You didn’t bother putting your hood up, knowing it would only hinder your investigative abilities and peripheral. Besides, you could handle a little snow.

Your breath clouded in front of you as you ran your eyes along the roof. You heard the door open and close behind you, two pairs of footsteps followed you onto the concrete. Connor entered your vision, walking forward to examine another pool of blood. Anderson walked to a bag that was lying on the ground.

“Parachutes…” he muttered.

“There’s one left. Someone didn’t make it,” you said as you approached him. You normally didn’t enjoy working with others, but something about these two put you at ease. For once, they seemed to know what they were doing. 

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So then, where’s the other android? There’s no body, and no drag marks.”

He grunted, agreeing with you and processing your question simultaneously. It was then that you noticed Connor had gone out of sight. You stepped carefully around the blood, then walked towards the edge of the roof. The wind was beginning to pick up, it’s chill making your jaw clench and your lips darken. As you stood on the edge of the cliff, the thought of falling came swiftly into your mind. How easy it would be to jump.

“Where do you suppose they landed, Lieutenant?” You shouted over your shoulder, “I don’t know this city too well.”

“I’m not sure, somewhere on a lower building, then maybe they made their way down undetected,” he met you half way as you walked back to the center of the roof. “And call me Hank, sweetheart.”

His old-fashioned mannerisms flattered you. You nodded, smiling. “Certainly seems better that way.”

He hardly had time to think on your double entendre before three gun shots rang out on the roof, one after the other. Immediately, you were in defense mode. You unholstered your gun and crouched down, finding cover behind one of the various metal contraptions. Hank followed you, peaking out before continuing across the roof to where you imagined Connor was located. This all happened within a matter of seconds, and despite your training and your level head, you couldn’t help your pounding heart.

_Badge, holster, gun, stunner, scanner, wallet, phone…_

More shots echoed through the air, and you followed Hank’s path, ducking behind another metal unit. You peaked over it, seeing Hank and Connor ten feet in front of you, hiding as an Android pointed his gun out from inside a hidden compartment. Hank was speaking to Connor, though you couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying. Connor’s LED was flashing from yellow to red to yellow as he tried to decide what the best approach to the situation was. His eyes met yours for a moment, and something in you, maybe even instinct, made you shake your head. His brown eyes begged you for a solution.

 _Don’t do it_ , you thought.

**_Attack Deviant {???}_ **

**_Hank: 45% Chance of Survival_ **

**_Agent Y/L/N: 57% Chance of Survival_ **

**_Mission Success: 66%_ **

**_Stay in Cover_ **

**_Hank: 98% Chance of Survival_ **

**_Agent Y/L/N: 93% Chance of Survival_ **

**_Mission Success: -22%_ **

**_Charge Deviant_ **

**_Hank: 48% Chance of Survival_ **

**_Agent Y/L/N: 60% Chance of Survival_ **

**_Mission Success: 70%_ **

**_@3//$78((_ **

**_ &^##*&@^_ **

You watched as Connor swiveled out from where he was hiding, attacking the deviant and reaching for his arm. Shouts of protest came from Hank, and you knew you should duck for cover, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off the situation. You cocked your gun, preparing to shoot.

Before you could, the deviant put his gun to his chin and pulled the trigger, collapsing against the wall. 

{ ** _Memory} J E R I C H O_**

**_#* &#@*&^ *@#&*^$ (*#&$@(*&)_ **

**_01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100100 01100101 01100001 01110100 01101000_ **

“Connor! Connor are you alright? Connor!” Hank shouted at him as he left his cover to check on the android. The other agents and officers around you approached with caution. You put your gun on safety and holstered it. You stood, realizing now how tense you’d been. Your shoulders ached.

“Okay…”

“Are you hurt?”

“…I’m okay…” Connor’s voice was shaking. You kept your distance, but watched intently. Something behind your sternum ached.

“Jesus,” Hank took a deep breath. “You scared the shit outta me! For fuck’s sake, I told you not to move. Why do you never do what I say?” He was shouting now, leaving footsteps in the snow from his pacing.

Connor clutched the metal roofed compartment behind him, his back still to you. “I was connected to its memory…” He turned to look at Hank, and you could finally see his eyes. You approached him slowly, your breathing shallow. “When it fired… I felt it die…” He eyes darted around, his lips parted. “Like I was dying.”

_Connor…_

“I was scared…” He started to stand, regaining his stability. “I saw something in its memory. A word, painted on a piece of rusty metal… ‘Jericho.’”

You put the word in your mind before taking a few steps forward and placing a hand on Connor’s arm. He jumped slightly, before settling at your touch. Your lips parted as your eyes met. You couldn’t find the words.

“Y/L/N, are you alright?” You heard Perkins behind you. 

“I’m fine,” you nodded at him as he walked up to the three of you.

“Good. You’re headed to the station. BAU wants you to stay in Detroit until this is resolved.”

“Why’d they tell you that?”

“I’ll be your supervisor, since you aren’t technically a field agent,” he looked between you and Connor. You let go of his arm, pocketing your hands. “Get used to these guys, Y/L/N. This won’t be the last time you see them.”

You settled your breathing, realizing you were practically panting. Perkins turned his back to you and walked off, signaling for the other agents on the roof to follow. The investigation here was finished.

“You want a ride with us?” Hank’s voice was hoarse, probably from all the yelling he did just now.

“Do you mind?” You looked at the two of them, adrenaline fading. It really was cold out.

“Connor?”

The android was still shaken, but his light had returned to blue. He came down from the cloud he was on, looking you over. The way his eyes raked over you made you forget the bite of the wind as it whipped across the roof.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he said, his voice soft. He smiled weakly.

“Great. Off we go, kids,” Hank said as he walked past the two of you. You followed, keeping a little closer to Connor than you normally would. 

You never felt like you had maternal instincts, but something about this particular situation and this particular android made you want to keep him safe, to keep him out of this mess. Shoving those feeling down, you made your way to the rooftop door, holding it for Connor as he stepped inside. He thanked you quietly.

His arm retained the feeling of your hand, and he wished to himself you’d kept it there. He didn’t know why, but it calmed his mechanics to have you near him in that moment. Surely, that couldn’t be your intention. He was too focused on regaining his composure and relaying the lead he’d found to get a good read on your face. Although, he couldn’t read you very well. According to human standards, he imagined you’d be good at poker.

Connor followed Hank back to the elevators, noting that you were still trailing behind him. Most of the people investigating the scene had left, leaving the room silent except for the echoing sound of footsteps.

You watched as his shoulders swayed, coin in hand. He fiddled with it slowly, like his mind was somewhere else. Was he replaying what had happened in his head? Did androids daydream? Or understand trauma? Was he just processing? You were tempted to ask him these things, but you weren’t sure you wanted those answers, or if he could even give them to you.

Some things just couldn’t be explained.

 

**saving progress...**


	2. Advanced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get heated when you arrive at the Detroit Police Department in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!  
> Slammed out this chapter; I'm really excited about how the plot is developing. I've got a lot of great ideas, and if you've read my other work, you know how much I loooove foreshadowing. So keep an eye out ;)  
> -S

**_system check…_ **

**_system initiating…_ **

**_errors found: (0)_ **

**_mind palace functional:_ **

**_opening software {AMANDA}_ **

 

Connor opened his eyes, sun gleaming through the partially clouded digital sky. The air was warm. He walked through the zen garden, light reflecting off the pure white path, his footsteps echoing lightly.

He walked towards the center island, his balance undeterred by the frictionless white bridge that lead there. He fidgeted with his hands, wringing them out, almost as if he possessed nerves of his own. This small act confused him.

“Hello, Connor.” Amanda kept her back to the android, tending instead to her wall of roses. A brisk breeze made Connor suddenly aware of his sensors.

“Hello, Amanda,” he said, his voice chipper as usual. “I’m here to report on the investigation.”

“It does seem appropriate to do so,” Amanda responded, her voice unreadable to Connor. Her tone was always ever-changing, and he could never truly tell where he stood with her, no matter what answers he gave.

“I thought I’d let you know that we’ll be working with the FBI now, which will improve our chances of ending android deviancy.”

“What makes you say that?” She continued to clip her roses.

“Well, they have far more resources than the DPD. I’m confident that will be to our benefit.”

“And how do you feel about working with agents Richard Perkins and Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

Connor hesitated, remembering the heat he felt towards Agent Y/L/N. He wanted desperately to reach for his coin.

“Perkins doesn’t seem very fond of me, or any androids.”

“Connor…” Amanda’s voice deepened.

He shuffled his feet, “Agent Y/L/N seems much more… compliant,” his eyes wandered around as he adopted an unsettling feeling of tension.

Amanda finally turned to face him, her features distinct and unamused. She spoke with conviction, “And your encounter with the deviant?”

“I…” He racked his mind for the right words, unsure of whether or not he wanted to share his experience with Amanda. “…got some very useful information. A piece of rusted metal with the name ‘Jericho’ on it. I believe it to be a place of importance in regards to the deviants.”

She nodded, stepping towards the edge of the island. “You know, Connor, I can tell when you keep things from me,” she let the sentiment rest before continuing, “I will know if you do not complete your mission. I will know if you allow things to…” she waved her hands around, “muddle your thinking.”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to…”

“If you cannot follow through, Connor, if you get distracted,” she turned to approach him, leveling her eyes. “I will just replace you.”

Connors heart pumped a little faster. Why was he responding to this threat? Why did he feel threatened?

“I understand.”

 

**_self diagnostic complete…_ **

**_running secondary self check…_ **

**_errors found (0)_ **

**_discrepancies found (0)_ **

**_malfunctions found (0)_ **

**_checking biocomponents_ **

**_no errors_ **

**_Evaluation Complete_ **

**_Closing Program {AMANDA}_ **

 

Connor opened his eyes. He was sitting in the back seat of Hank’s car, music playing softly. The sky outside had begun to darken, raindrops trailing down the windows. 

“…you joined the agency?”

“Well, I was twenty-four. I didn’t think it would be possible, but I managed it.”

“Holy shit, kid. They build you in a lab or something?”

You laugh lightly. People were always surprised when you told them how young you were when you became an agent at the FBI. “Yeah, something like that. I guess I just had the right skills at the right time. I did become a police officer when I was seventeen.”

“Why?” Connor’s voice piped up from the back of the car. He wasn’t sure why he’d asked, but felt it was important to engage in the conversation.

“In my head, I wanted to solve crimes. I love puzzles, I love working under pressure. I love a chase. But in my heart,” you shook your head, “This world has really gone to shit. I am only one small drop in a large pond, but every raindrop ripples when it lands, you know?”

Hank grunted in what seemed to be passive agreement. The sentiment stuck in Connor’s mind. He wondered how he fit into that metaphor. Was he also a raindrop? Or was he a pebble sitting below the water’s surface?

You let a silence settle in the car. Even though you were going to be working with both detectives, you figured based on Hank’s personality type, that you shouldn’t try to force the conversation. Instead, you took time to review the case in your mind.

The police station came into view before long. You gathered your things from where they lied at your feet as the other two stepped out. Your hand had just found the door handle when it opened.

“Agent…” Connor smiled down at you, gesturing for you to step out.

“Thank you, Connor,” you returned his smile. There was a brief tightening in your chest. You tried to steady your breathing as you stood, within inches of the android. His eyes scanned your face, a grin still plastered on his lips. His lips…

You nodded slightly before following Hank into the station. Connor walked behind you.

 

**_run diagnostic…_ **

**_errors found (0)_ **

**_run diagnostic_ **

**_errors found (0)_ **

**_run diagnostic_ **

**_errors found (0)_ **

 

You held the door open for Connor as he stepped into the station. Both to return the favor, and to allow him to lead since you’d never been here before. You half-enjoyed this chess game he’d started. Well, maybe more than half.

Hank was waiting in the lobby for Connor to catch up so he could sneak him a word. You allowed the gap between you to grow, as not to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“The hell are you doing?” Hank mumbled to Connor when he finally reached his side. They turned their backs to you.

“I’m not sure as to what you refer, Lieutenant. Can you please be more-“

“You’re practically blushing, kid.”

**_run self-check on program /blush_ **

**_program status: off_ **

Connor shook his head, “I’m sorry, Hank, but you’re wrong.”

Hank chuckled, “Whatever, Connor.”

You followed from a distance as you were led through a gate into a bigger area of the DPD. A dozen desks were splayed out on the floor, a large glass office on one side of the room. You spotted Perkins inside, talking to who you assumed to be the DPD Captain. You approached with caution, noting the other officers in the station. Voices murmured around you.

You knocked on the glass door, and Perkins waved you in. 

“Captain Fowler, this is Special Agent Y/F/N Y/L/N, she’ll be assisting me in the investigation.”

Captain Fowler stood to shake your hand. You reached over his desk, gripping his hand firmly. “I’m glad to be of service, Captain.”

“We do appreciate it. But like I was telling your partner here—“

“Superior, sir,” Perkins corrected.

“Right,” Fowler sighed, “This is still Detroit. And if you’re smart, you read the ‘Detroit Police Department’ sign outside. This is not your city.”

“If I may, Captain,” you stepped forward, “While it is of great importance that your department can maintain its relationship with the city of Detroit and uphold the laws in a way you find appropriate, this has become a federal case. It will be easier for both of us if you relinquish your cases and assign assisting officers. We aren’t here to create a monarchy, we’re here to establish a partnership.” You looked at Perkins, who nodded at you respectfully.

“Surprisingly well said for someone so young,” Fowler leaned back in his chair. “I just don’t want a take-over. It’s bad for moral.”

“We aren’t looking to do that, Captain. My FBI jacket is probably the only one you’ll be seeing unless there’s a threat.”

Fowler’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Agent Y/L/N specializes in psychological analyzation. As a profiler, she’ll need to be here every day, present on every active case. I’ll be flying back and forth from DC, and our team will set up at headquarters.”

“You don’t have to worry about an invasion, Captain. Just me.”

Fowler crossed his arms, grumbling to himself. “I’m sure you’re qualified, but I don’t want some kid running around my department.”

You chose not to respond, leaving the arguing to Perkins. This wasn’t the first time someone had complained about the strange connection between your age and your status.

“Agent Y/L/N isn’t your typical agent, Captain. She’s, well,” Perkins glanced at you, “Advanced.”

“Advanced? In what way?”

 

**_run diagnostic check_ **

**_errors found (0)_ **

**_diagnostic run count: 713,842,313_ **

 

“Connor, can you get some damn work done?”

Connor looked up at Hank, who’d been staring at him for the past several minutes.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Connor returned his attention to his desktop.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m just running tests to see if all my hardware is functioning correctly. I’ve been feeling… off.”

Hank hummed in agreement, “You’ve been off. Do you think it has something to do with what happened on the roof?”

Connor thought for a moment. That would seem to explain his odd behavior. Perhaps it was a shock that had already passed, and he was now dealing with residual effects he couldn’t detect. As if it were… all in his head?

“Maybe, I’m not sure.”

His attention was caught as you walked out of Fowler’s office, Perkins trailing behind you. He watched as the two of you talked briefly before Perkins turned to leave. You fiddled with the palms of your hands, stress knit softly in your brow.

You weren’t sure if you staying in Detroit was the best decision, but it seemed to make the most sense. All you had to do now was find a hotel and a car to rent. Maybe something close to the station, then you could just walk. Or you could ask Fowler to lend you a police car, but you figured you should wait to push that boundary.

A strange feeling settled over you, and you looked up to find Connor staring at you. He waved. You waved back, pocketing your hands and making your way over to his desk. Hank sat in front of him, scribbling away on a piece of paper.

“You’re old fashioned, Lieutenant, if you don’t mind me making the observation.” 

Hank jumped, looking up at you. He set his pen down and stretched out his legs. “I like the feeling of the paper.”

You held up your hands, “I’m not judging, just making a note.”

“Was that a pun, Agent?” Connor’s voice piped up from behind his monitor. He leaned around it so you could see his face.

You laughed, “Yes, it was.”

Connor smiled, glad he’d noticed a human joke. Wit was something he had trouble picking up on; it was especially hard with you, as your humor seemed to be relatively dry.

“Lieutenant, is there a desk I could use? I’ll be here more often than I thought.”

He waved his hand, “Call me Hank. And the one behind Connor is open.”

You nodded, taking off your jacket and placing it on the chair. You felt both pairs of eyes on you. 

“Pelican got ya chained here?”

You chuckled, “ _Perkins,_ and yes. I need to find a hotel, if you know any near here?”

“There’s a Hilton down on Lafayette and 1st. Your stay sponsored by the federal government.”

You nodded, smiling, “Yeah, it is.”

“If I had that budget, that’s where I’d stay.”

“Thank you, Hank. I’ll check it out tonight.” You looked at your watch, sighing, “Speaking of, it’s getting late. I better get my living situation figured out as soon as I can. I do wish I could stay longer, I’ve got as many reports to fill out as you do.”

Hank cheered a cup of coffee towards you. You glanced around, making your way over to the staff lounge. Caffeine was going to be a necessity for the next several hours. You had to get your clothes shipped over, write your reports, and call your superiors. This was beginning to become an organizational nightmare.

A voice you didn’t recognize grabbed your attention as you waited for a fresh pot of coffee to brew. 

“You must be new around here.” A tall, brown haired man in casual clothes approached you. He had his hands in his pockets, and swayed with excessive jagger as he walked. Obviously a detective, and judging by his energy, not the greatest. “I think I would’ve remembered you.”

“I’m Special Agent Y/F/N Y/L/N, and you are?”

“Detective Gavin Reed,” he looked you up and down, a smug grin on his face. “You seem a little young to be an FBI agent.”

“I am. Do you know how you should feel about that?”

He huffed a breath out through his nose, “How.”

“Threatened.”

He clenched his jaw, taking a couple steps towards you. “That’s a lot of shit talk coming from such a pretty mouth.”

Footsteps approached behind the two of you. You immediately recognized them as Connor’s.

“Excuse me, Reed. I need to get to the coffee machine, and you’re in the way.”

Reed turned around to face Connor, his eyes dark. Connor looked at him with as much emotion as a mahogany doorframe. 

“I didn’t realize androids needed a buzz to function,” Reed spat.

“This coffee is for the Lieutenant,” Connor’s eyes drifted over to your face. For once, he registered an emotion: disgust. For a second he thought it might be directed towards him, but he quickly deduced that it was aimed at Gavin Reed. “I might also add that you’re making Agent Y/L/N uncomfortable.”

His hands tightened around Hank’s mug as Reed’s fists clenched. “Listen here you stupid piece of expendable plastic,” he jabbed his finger into Connor’s chest. “You mean nothing. And if you—“

“Not to interrupt what was sure to be a very promising burn, Detective, but I don’t think your compensating language is appreciated,” you said through half-clenched teeth.

“Compensating lang—?”

“Of course, you’re correct. Connor _is_ expendable,” you took a step in-between the two, your chest inches from Reed’s. “Which is why you shouldn’t threaten him. Because he is guaranteed to outlast you, or your money back.”

Reed huffed, a grin of disbelief on his face. Underneath his facade, he was defeated. He raised his hands and stepped back, walking backwards out of the room. 

“I’ve got my eye on you, sweetheart.” Before he turned to leave, he shot you a wink. You cringed.

“I’m sorry if I escalated things, Agent. Detective Reed doesn’t enjoy my presence,” Connor stood behind you, mug still in hand. You turned to face him. He was standing much closer than you’d anticipated.

“It’s okay. He’s not the first person like that I’ve had to deal with.”

“You’re very smart with your words,” Connor said, the corners of his mouth tilted upwards slightly.

You laughed, “I appreciate that. I didn’t mean what I said, though. You aren’t expendable.”

“Actually, I am. If I die, my memory gets—“

“No one is expendable, Connor. Everything has consequences.”

He nodded, not sure how to respond. He watched as you reached your arm past him, brushing against him slightly. He stepped back, not wanting to cause any more tension. 

You poured yourself a cup of coffee to go, watching as Connor’s light turned from blue to yellow to blue to yellow. 

“Are you struggling with something, Connor?”

“I was wondering if I could address you by your first name?” He said, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

“I don’t mind. Is that it?”

He hesitated, not sure how far he could push your professional boundary. “I was going to offer I walk you to your hotel. It would be the most logical decision; you don’t know where it is, and Detroit can be a bit of a danger. I’d be escorting you.”

“An escort, how formal,” you took a sip of your coffee to see if he’d catch your joke. He didn’t, or at least you didn’t think he did. “I would appreciate that a lot.”

“I’ll go tell Hank,” he walked past you briskly, leaving you alone in the lounge. You turned and watched him as he walked back to his desk. He fiddled with his coin.

 

**_run diagnosis_ **

**_running…_ **

**_cancel diagnosis_ **

**_are you sure?_ **

**_[yes] / [no]_ **

**_selected: yes_ **

**_{diagnosis has been cancelled}_ **

**_LOCATE DoubleTree Suites by Hilton_ **

**_Address: 525 W Lafayette Blvd_ **

**_Detroit, MI  48226_ **

**_Location Found_ **

**_Book Room 404_ **

**_Name Required for Registration_ **

**_input: Y/F/N Y/L/N_ **

**_Success_ **

 

You walked back over to Connor, grabbing your coat off of your chair. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hank.”

He waved mid sip of his coffee, his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him. Connor walked beside you, and the two of you exited the DPD and made your way out to the street. Rain fell lightly from the sky. The air was cold, the night was dark. But the city was alive with bustle. 

You had a feeling this was going to be a long walk.

 

**saving progress…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I've already started Chapter 3 since I cut it from the end of this chapter (otherwise this one would've been SO long). So expect to see that soon! <3


	3. The Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor gets to know you. But there's something he can't figure out: what are you hiding?

“Are you cold?” Connor asked. You had pocketed your hands, and were rubbing your fingers on your palms in a vain attempt to warm them. 

“I’m fine, thank you Connor. How far are we walking? Three blocks down and…”

“Two blocks to the left.”

You nodded. “It might be nice to walk in the mornings. I’ll have to get myself an umbrella.”

“That would be a wise purchase.”

You smiled. “You’re very literal, you know that? For a top-of-the-line prototype, I expected more socializing skills.”

“It’s not necessary that I be witty like you are, Y/F/N. I’m just here to advance the investigations.”

You hummed, incapsulated in thought about the android. Like he’d confirmed, there were certainly more of him. But why send out only one? Was he a test? And if so, of what?

“Can you tell me about yourself, Agent?”

“Why?”

He paused, “I’m having a hard time finding anything about you, as you’re high security and I haven’t been granted access to your file since it’s your first day.”

“How flattering, I thought maybe you wanted to get to know me.”

Connor’s biocomponents sung. He enjoyed the way you spoke with such vigor. You were dry, your tone was flat, but when you joked with him, it was like you loosened.

“Perhaps I want that, too,” he said, his head dipping down a bit. He looked at you innocently. 

Your steps were quiet except for the occasional splash of a puddle. Connor walked silently. Of course, he was perfectly programmed. But you also couldn’t help but wonder if that was a setting, if he chose to walk like that, or if his steps, like many things, just _were_.

“Agent?”

You looked at him, smiling lightly. “Sorry. I get lost in my head sometimes.”

He nodded at you. If there was one thing he could understand about humanity, it was that sentiment. “I know what that’s like… What were you thinking about?”

You shook your head. “Just wondering how your mind works. But, hey, you wanted to know about me, right?”

“Right,” he stiffened a bit. How he works? What did that mean? He couldn’t decide what he wanted more: to hear you talk about your life, or to hear you talk about him.

“I’m not sure where to start,” you brushed your hair behind your ear. The two of you stopped at a crosswalk, rain drizzling lightly. It was quiet. “My favorite color is teal. I like the number seven. I was drama club president when I was in high school, but my real passion was yearbook.”

“Why teal?”

“I like not knowing if it’s green or blue.”

Connor’s LED spun yellow for a moment as he processed the new information. He wasn’t sure whether or not it would be of any use, but he wanted to save it. He wanted to save everything to do with you.

“So you liked journalism?” He asked.

“Are you referring to the yearbook thing?”

“Yes.” Connor looked down at you. You seemed to be mulling it over.

“I liked pitching,” you laughed, “I think I just wanted to be Don Draper.”

 

**_open search_ **

**_“Don Draper”_ **

**_loading results…_ **

**Donald Draper, formerly known as Dick Whitman, is a fictional character on a popular show called _Mad Men_. The show ran from 2007-2015. Don Draper is played by Jon Hamm. **

**In the show, Don is—**

 

“He’s this fictional character from forever ago. But, he had this way of speaking, everyone always listened to him. I wanted that.”

“People listen to you.”

You huffed out of your nose. He was incredibly smart, but you also felt like there were things he would never be able to really understand. Something about that made you resent him, which in turn made you feel guilty.

“They do. But only sometimes. _Everyone_ listens when Don Draper gets up from his chair.”

“Alright then,” Connor turned to you, walking backwards so he could face you fully. “Pitch me something. Pitch me an old campaign,” he paused. His biocomponents warmed. “Make me listen to you.”

“Connor…” Your ears got hot, and your stomach churned. Why were you feeling embarrassed? It wasn’t like he was going to judge you. “Okay, fine, but I came up with this when I was a kid. And it’s old and—“

He stared at you expectantly. Your mind cleared in that moment. His brown eyes gripped your anxiety and snapped it in half. You breathed out slowly.

“My senior year, our theme was ‘develope,’ with an e. It was like, this old spelling,” you waved your hands around as you remembered the cover, the design. “I came up with our theme statement, and I presented it. It was something like this…” You cleared your throat, wringing your hands briefly. 

Connor watched as you prepared yourself.

 

**_open camera_ **

**_function enter_ **

**_ <RECORD>_ **

 

“Some people might say that polaroids are old fashioned,” you began, trying not to laugh at yourself. You felt 16 all over again. If Perkins could see you now… “They’re a thing of the past. But, there’s something only they can do, something special about them. The wait.”

Connor watched your pupils dilate, your chest level, your shoulders straighten. It was like you had forgotten the world around you. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind. There was just a vision, just ideas. _There was only you._

  “What’s it going to look like? How will it turn out? Am _I_ going to look good?” You feigned concern, then deepened your tone. “The uncertainty, the insecurity, the anticipation… These things are all apart of the _process_ ,” you tried to gauge Connor’s reaction to your pun for a moment before remembering that he probably wouldn’t have one. A little defeated, you continued, “Polaroids aren’t old technology. They take snapshots. Pictures don’t make memories, _they prove that memories exist_. Polaroids aren’t time capsules, they’re time machines. _Every_ choice we make has results, has consequences, has potential. This is how they’ve developed.”

 

**_function enter_ **

**_ <END RECORDING>_ **

**_save as…_ **

**_“memories”_ **

 

“Come on, nothing?” You huffed, half smiling. “I gave people chills!”

“You were sixteen when you wrote that?” Connor tilted his head. He had returned to your side, and was walking inches from you now. You could feel the heat coming off him, if he had any to give. What you did notice was the faint smell of what seemed to be cologne. Your jaw tightened. 

“Yeah. Probably the best thing I ever came up with, honestly,” you laughed nervously, “I always wanted to be a writer.”

“Then why join the Bureau?” His voice was quieter than before. 

“I’m, well…” You hesitated. As the two of you turned a corner, you saw the hotel in the distance. It looked quaint, but you knew better than to assume that based on the exposed brick alone. The lights shined on the wet pavement. If you looked hard enough, you could see your reflection. You could see Connor’s eyes on you, his LED yellow. 

“Y/F/N?”

“Hey, looks like we’re here,” you walked a little faster, “I’m ready to get out of this rain.”

Connor followed a couple steps behind you as you approached the hotel. He watched your strides, your calves, your hips…

 

**_run self check_ **

**_errors found (0)_ **

**_run check on biocomponent #1436x_ **

**_biocomponent functional, not in use_ **

**_turn settings: on (?)_ **

**_confirming…_ **

**_biocomponent #1436x now operational_ **

 

“I hope they accept late reservations. Maybe my badge will get me in…”

“I’ve already made you a reservation. You’re on the fourth floor.”

You turned to look at him, “Connor, you didn’t have to do that.”

“It seemed like the most logical option.”

You shook your head. He followed you to the door, opening it before you could reach the handle. He bowed his head slightly, gesturing for you to enter first. 

“That is some quality ass-kissing programming you’ve got there, Connor.”

He smirked, “Not my only unexpected programming, Agent.”

You chuckled to yourself as you stepped inside, the warm air making you feel almost drowsy. The lounge was beautiful. It smelled like vanilla and fresh laundry. Classical red carpets atop shined marble lined the floor. Calming jazz played over the speakers. A television played on the other side of the room. Images of the androids who had invaded the tower flashed on the screen. Concern bubbled inside of you as your mind wandered back to the case.

The sounds of Connor’s voice drew your attention. He was speaking to the android at the front desk.

“…delivering some items to the hotel. They would be sent from out of state.”

“That can be arranged.”

He nodded, walking back towards you, keycard in hand. He offered it to you. 

You accepted it gratefully, “I’m not sure what to say.”

“No need to thank me, Agent. The easier your transition, the more work you’ll be able to do for us.”

“The more I’ll be seeing you,” you mumbled. The two of you stood in silence for a moment before you came to your senses. Did androids sense awkwardness?

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Perkins was sending you details about your transition, including when your things would arrive. You ignored them.

“So, where do you go now?”

“I’ll be heading back to the station to access my work and continue with the case.”

“That’s right, you don’t need sleep. You never take breaks?”

“I do,” he fiddled with his coin, “I guess you could say walking here was a break.”

That made you smile. 

Connor smiled back.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, Connor.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Goodnight, Y/F/N.”

“Goodnight,” you said. You watched as he walked out of the building, striding down the street the way you’d come, tossing his coin in the air. It was pouring outside now. 

As you walked to your room, you thought about the trip here. You thought about the way Connor turned to walk in front of you, how he didn’t misstep once. You thought about the way his light flashed to yellow. The calm in his eyes. 

You entered your room. It was gorgeous. A large king sized bed sat in the middle of the room, fluffy white pillows calling your name. The curtains were open, and your eyes were drawn immediately to the Detroit skyline. The bustle of night-life, the lights, the few people braving the rain. 

But more than that, you saw your own reflection. 

 

Connor returned to the DPD and went straight to his desk. He was… uncomfortable? Not for any negative reason that he could tell. And certainly not because you had done something inappropriate. In fact, everything you did made him content, perhaps eager. But he felt off. He felt like he was different after that walk. 

The glow of his computer monitor shined a soft light on him and his surroundings. He continued to run self checks, but to no avail. A part of him wanted to check in with Amanda, but he had a sinking feeling about that, too.

In his turmoil, he decided to review something.

 

**_open files_ **

**_select: save file “memories”_ **

****

**“Pictures don’t make memories, they prove that they exist.”**

 

Connor closed his eyes. He pulled up every image he had with you in it. He studied the colors of your eyes, the way they glowed when the light was on them. The shine of your skin, the cracks in your lips, the curve of your cheeks, the flow of your hair. How you smiled so often at him. The sparkle in your eyes when he spoke to you. For hours he did this. But there was still something missing. Something about you he couldn’t understand, couldn’t find, couldn’t detect.

There was something enigmatic about you. It bothered him deeply that he didn’t know what it was, but felt it would come to light very soon.

 

**_“Every_ choice we make has results, has consequences, has potential.”**

 

**saving progress…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!  
> Had to go back and add chapter notes; it was easily 4AM when I actually posted this. Anyways- LOVING the support for this story so far. Thank you for fueling my DBH obsession. Friendly reminder: there is a Tumblr for my writing! If I have any important updates, notes, ideas, etc, they'll be posted there. Go follow @fancattts-fiction!  
> -S


	4. Us and Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In every investigation, sacrifices have to be made. What are you willing to do to further the mission?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends!  
> Sorry for the wait, but I think you'll see why this chapter took so long after you read it...  
> Also, I try to stick to some parts of the actual DBH script, but I might deviate (buh dum tss) every once and a while, especially since the timeline is different now that the reader is there! However, for the sake of drama, I kept a lot of it the same :)  
> -S

Every muscle in your body hurt as you stood underneath the heat of the shower. You lathered up with the body wash provided by the hotel, seeing that you hadn’t gone out to get your own just yet. You’d managed to go out in the early morning and grab slacks and a t-shirt that seemed to fit alright, although they still had that new-clothes texture you hated. It would have to do for now, at least until you could get your things shipped to the station or the hotel. 

You stepped out of the shower, dressed and dried your hair. After twenty minutes or so, you were ready to go. The rain that had poured the night before hadn’t let up much. It had even gotten cold enough to snow. Mounds of muddy slush covered the streets below. The city looked much busier than it had when you and Connor had walked to the hotel. Now the roads were filled with cars, the sidewalks flowing with masses of people. You watched them like ants, scattered along the pavement, bustling, warping.

Distracted by the crowds, you didn’t notice the first knock on your door. It came again a little harder. You came out of the clouds and walked cautiously towards the door. The handle was cold on your hand as you swung the white door open.

Perkins stood awkwardly in the hallway, holding two cups of coffee.

“Thought I’d grab you come caffeine. Figure you’d need it.”

You raised a brow at him, “This is awfully hospitable of you, Perkins.”

He snorted, “I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘ _thank you_.’”

“What are you doing here, other than providing room service,” you opened the door wider and walked back into your room, thankful you’d already made your bed and put away yesterday’s panties. You shook your head at yourself for that thought.

“Just wanted to brief you on the plan today.”

“Couldn’t you have done that at the station?” You set your coffee down as you loaded your gun and strapped on your holster. The melodic clicking sounds calmed your nerves.

“I wanted to talk away from all those cops,” he sighed, “They think we’re uptight feds, makes it hard to have a private conversation.”

“They think _you_ are an uptight fed,” you laughed as you put on your jacket, “I’m one of the cool kids.”

He shuffled back and forth. There was rain sitting in droplets on his hair. His tie was uneven, his collar misshapen. His socks didn’t match. You had a feeling he dressed in a rush this morning.

“Right, of course,” He rolled his eyes and wandered back out into the hallway as you grabbed your drink and hotel keycard off the dresser. You closed the door and followed Perkins down the hallway to the elevators.

“So what are we doing today?”

“I have important paperwork to fill out, meetings to attend, you know, high-level business,” he gloated, “You on the other hand aren’t as lucky. You’ll be going out into the field with Lieutenant Anderson and his pet.”

You rolled your eyes, entering one of the elevators, “Do you know where?”

“I believe they want to gain more information about androids through a reputable source. That’s all the information I could gather.”

“Wait— you could _gather_? Why didn’t you just ask?”

“The DPD isn’t being very… _forthcoming_ with their info. I’m forced to use other tactics.”

“Like sleeping with officers?” You chuckled at him as you walked towards the hotel entrance.

He cleared his throat, “How did you know?”

“You aren’t exactly hiding it. You’re disheveled,” you held the door for him, then followed behind as he made his way out into the rain. The two of you began the short walk back to the DPD.

“You know, I thought you’d be better at covering it up. But I guess you aren’t really a one-night-stand type.”

He scoffed, “You don’t know me as well as you think you do, agent. Watch your mouth.”

“No need to get defensive, Perkins. I’m merely doing my job.”

You drank your coffee and thought in silence about the case as Perkins gave you a rundown on the details he’d attained from the officer he’d “seduced.” You didn’t pay much attention considering most of it was white noise. Had he just taken the time to think the case over, he might have been able to come to many of those conclusions himself.

“…that android. I’d be careful if I were you.”

You tuned back in at that.

“Are you referring to Connor?”

“Christ, don’t sound so attached. It’s an RK800, no need to name it.”

“That’s just his name, I’m not giving him a collar and a bone, am I?”

He shook his head, “Listen to yourself. ‘He,’ ‘him.’ It’s disgusting.”

You chose not to respond, which may have been unsatisfying for him. You had a feeling that Perkins was the kind of person waiting to be convinced of the things he didn’t believe. You weren’t exactly the kind of person to waste time on that.

The DPD doors swung open as four officers jogged to their cars. You got caught holding the door for them, only stepping inside after you’d watched them drive away. The warmth of the DPD seeped quickly into your skin.

“Agent Y/L/N,” A familiar voice called as you walked to your desk. Connor walked towards you with intention.

“Connor,” you set down your empty cup and removed your coat. Your hands were wet and cold from the rain despite your attempts to warm them with your breath.

“You seem to be cold,” Connor commented as he watched you cycle between blowing warm air onto your hands and wiping them on your slacks.

“Is _that_ what your complex analysis system is telling you…” Sarcasm dripped from your mouth. Connor smirked.

“It is. It’s also telling me that you’re sore, that your temperature is slightly raised, and that in approximately seven hours, you’ll be sick.”

You laughed, “Anything I can do to prevent that from happening?”

“Perhaps try some cough medicine or mild sedative. I advice you wait until we’ve finished our investigation.”

Hank entered your peripheral, putting a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Play out your doctor fantasies later, kid. We need to leave. Now,” Hank looked at you, “Not used to the weather?”

“Hardly. Just unprepared.”

He nodded, “Well, better get used to that. We’re headed out to Elijah Kamski’s estate today. Get some actual information on these damn deviants.”

“You think he’s going to give that information up?”

“Sure fuckin’ hope so. Let’s go.”

You huffed a breath out your nose and followed the boys to Hank’s car. Connor held the front door open for you. You shot him a smile, which he returned.

 

**_search area_ **

**_for (?) = weather_ **

**WEATHER TODAY: DETROIT**

**APROX. 35 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT (1.66 DEGREES CELSIUS)**

**_search for_**

**_signs of hypothermia…_ **

 

“Elijah Kamski left CyberLife a while ago, are you sure he’d know anything about what’s happening now that he—“

“Listen, ki— _Agent_. You seem smart, smarter than Perkins. Which means you should understand when I say that we have no options.”

“Desperation grows small crops, Lieutenant,” you paused. “It can’t hurt to check.”

He nodded, grunting in agreement.

 

**_D3?sperat!on gr0w!s sm+all cr%%op?s_ **

 

“Agent?” Connor leaned towards the center console, “Do you mind explaining your metaphor?”

You smiled slightly at Connor’s request. “If we rush things, if we act out of desperation, it’s unlikely that we’re going to get anything useful. Patience pays off,” you turned to look at Connor. His face was only a few inches from yours. “I… I say things like that a lot… I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Y/F/N. Eventually, I’ll be able to recognize the meaning of your more imaginative phrases.” He smiled at you.

The sentiment made you grin as you returned your attention to the road. You wondered how much Connor ended up searching the internet for whenever you made a reference or said something he didn’t get. Or if he ever _could_ put those things together on his own. What would that mean for him?

“So,” you shuffled your hands in your lap, “Have you always been such a workaholic, Lieutenant?”

“Are you being smart with me? I will turn this car around.”

You chuckled, your eyes fixed on the road ahead of you, “I ask with some sarcasm, seeing that you never wear police attire. However, your desk offers some evidence that you once took great pride in your work. Not to be invasive, but you aren’t married, you aren’t looking towards retirement. You seem to be distracting yourself with liquor and this investigation.”

Hank’s mouth hung open slightly, his hands tightening on the wheel. You knew you’d crossed a line.

“I see why you get paid the big bucks,” his tone was acidic. 

“I’m sorry. It felt strange to keep that information to myself without, you know.”

He nodded, “The curse of a good detective. No close relationships.”

“Hank’s struggle with alcoholism roots from his inability to move past the—“

Hank hit the steering wheel, “Connor, you better shut the fuck up.”

Connor’s LED spun yellow, but he remained silent. You watched him in the passenger side mirror until he finally caught your eyes. You gazed towards Hank. He’d settled, but you could tell something was on his mind. Like he couldn’t figure something out.

“Here’s a better topic: if these androids are more powerful, more intelligent than us, why aren’t they acting in violence?”

You acknowledged Hank’s need to change the topic of conversation. Connor still hadn’t said a word, not even to answer a question he surely had the most information on, being that he was an android himself. “They’ve been compromised,” you offered. “The emotions they’re exhibiting, they mirror a kind of sympathy. They’re perfectly logical, but cursed with empathy. Why attack when you could negotiate a peace? War only brings death.”

Hank shook his head, “If they’re so damn emotional, why not act on anger?”

“Do you choose the emotions you act on?”

He thought for a moment, only nodding once he’d come to that realization. But he had a point. 

“I suppose if you play the devils advocate…” You thought for a moment, chewing the inside of your lip, “Why not just execute every human that harmed the android cause? Why wait for peace?”

There was an air of thought that filled the car. Hank’s brows were furrowed as he mulled it over.

Finally, Connor piped up from the back. “Desperation grows small crops…”

You turned to look at him. His face was calm, but there was something about the way he looked at you, his head tilted slightly to the side, the corners of his mouth turned upwards. He seemed… smug.

The rest of the car ride was uneventful. Hank banned the more philosophical discussions, mostly because he didn’t see how they were relevant to the investigation. You guessed he wasn’t sure how he felt about androids; that he wasn’t ready to accept them as beings, or people in need of rights. You sensed that had something to do with his past. On top of that, the more you questioned deeper, the more concern rose in Connor as he struggled to grasp the tougher concepts being addressed. Things like the ‘devil’s advocate,’ free will, motivations. You were also worried he wasn’t understanding what you were getting at, so you dropped it.

Connor spent the rest of the car ride thinking about you. The way you spoke about androids interested him, even though it made him feel strange. It was rare when he met people as open to the idea of self-aware artificial intelligence as you were. Nevertheless, it was an error, and he couldn’t understand why you didn’t see it that way. 

But his mind also wandered to the waves in your hair, the curve of your jaw, the light in your eyes. He’d heard of Plato’s forms before; the idea that some things just existed, before they were discovered. Things like justice, bravery, and beauty. It hurt him to think about, but you were something else. Beyond standards, beyond statistics, beyond averages or measurements (though he knew _all_ of yours).

 

**_01110011 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100001 01110101 01110100 01101001 01100110 01110101 01101100_ **

 

“This must be the place,” Hank mumbled as he approached a set of gates. He pulled to a stop, and the three of you exited the car. The air turned your nose and fingers red, the muscles in your jaw fighting the urge to chatter. Snow fell lightly and melted in your hair.

You followed Hank towards the entry door, not hearing Connor’s footsteps behind you. You turned to look at him.

He was standing beside the car, his door still open, examining the terrain. His eyes caught yours, a gleam behind them. You couldn’t help but think that maybe he was more aware of himself than he was letting on. He always seemed to look like he had a secret.

“Connor? Are you coming?” Your voice was starting to fade. Maybe you really were getting sick.

“Of course,” he nodded, watching as you turned back towards Kamski’s mansion. He stared as you walked, your hair bouncing slightly, your hands tucked in your pockets. The sound of your footsteps, the sway of your hips. He could even smell the perfume you were wearing as he closed the door and followed briskly behind you. It was then that he became aware of his overheating core.

“You’re up to bat,” Hank grumbled as he turned abruptly to face you, stopping you dead in your tracks. The sudden halt made you lose your footing, forcing you to step backwards into Connor, who’d finally caught up. Your hand reached back and pressed into his abdomen, the other sticking out into the air to regain your balance. You felt hands on your waist as Connor made an attempt to steady you.

“Woah—“ you sucked in a breath, regaining your balance quickly. A blush spread to your cheeks. You cleared your throat.

Connor’s LED spun red. He released you, feeling in your sides that you were fine to stand on your own. He put his hands at his sides, awkwardly staring at the back of your head. Now he was really heating up. 

“Sorry, agent,” he mumbled, voice gone.

 

**_run self-check_ **

**_errors found (1)_ **

**_locate error…_ **

**_locate error…_ **

**_l o c a t e  e r r o r…_ **

**_error located:_ **

**_biocomponent #1436x_ **

**_diagnose…_ **

**_biocomponent #1436x has experienced a change in size_ **

**_REVERT TO NORMAL_ **

**_unable to execute command_ **

**_TRY AGAIN_ **

**_unable to execute command. please wait for biocomponent #1436x to return to normal…_ **

**_…_ **

**_Disable this biocomponent? <yes> <no>_ **

**_… …_ **

**_Selected: <no>_ **

**_Biocomponent #1436x will remain active…_ **

 

“Nice work, agent. You broke him,” Hank said as he offered you a hand. You took it, walking carefully over the ice patch you’d just slipped on. You turned slightly to look at Connor, who was standing perfectly still in the same spot, his eyes not focused on anything, his LED yellow.

Suddenly, he came back into focus. “I was just running a few diagnostic tests to check my balance, Hank. I’ve now calibrated myself to—“

“Yeah, alright, _sure_ ,” Hank shook his head, knocking on the door. He shoved you forward slightly, “You’re the one with the FBI badge, maybe he’ll listen to you.”

You laughed, “Right…”

The door opened. A sweet looking blonde android stood before you, LED spinning. “How can I help you?”

“I’m special agent F/N L/N from the FBI. We’re here to see Elijah Kamski.”

“What is this regarding?” Her voice was calm. If she didn’t have that LED, you wouldn’t be able to tell that she wasn’t human…

“We’re currently running an investigation of deviant androids. We just want to ask him a few questions.”

“Of course, please come in,” she waved a hand, gesturing for you to enter. “Please sit while I speak with Mr. Kamski.”

You lead the way, finding a seat on the left side of the room. Hank took the other chair, sighing impatiently as he sat down. Connor wandered in, walking towards some of the pictures and paintings that lined the walls of the room. He kept his back to you.

“That went well,” you said, mostly to yourself. Maybe you really would get some useful information.

“It’s weirdly easy to get a hold of the guy. He’s supposed to be a recluse.” Hank shifted in his seat, combing his scruff with his fingers as he thought.

“It’s almost like he wants us here.”

He nodded, “A man like that doesn’t let anyone in unless he has motivation. Keep an eye out.”

You bobbed your knee, trying to keep a level head. Connor’s pacing was putting you a little on edge. Hank had caught on as well, his eyes fixed on Connor as he walked around the room, stopping occasionally to reexamine something. Hank cleared his throat. When Connor didn’t do anything in response, he spoke up.

“Hey kid, you alright?”

“I’m just trying to learn as much about Kamski before we meet him.”

Hank chuckled, “Yeah. I’d be nervous too if I was about to meet my maker.”

“What a strange life he leads. The man spends his whole life alone. I wonder how long it’s been since he’s even spoken to someone.”

“At least that girl seemed nice. Better than bein’ surrounded by a bunch of these guys,” Hank gestured to Connor in an attempt to tease him. He continued when he didn’t get a response. “Well, Connor? Any thoughts?”

“She’s pretty,” Connor stated blatantly. This made Hank laugh, although you felt oddly jealous at his comment.

"You think people are pretty?" The question left your mouth before you could put any real thought into it. Your ears got hot.

Connor glanced at you briefly, the corners of his lips upturned slightly. Hank didn't catch on.

“Looks like someone has a crush.” Your head whipped to the side, ready to defend yourself before you realized he wasn’t talking about you. Hank pushed him further, but to no avail. Before he could harass the android any longer, the door on the other side of the room opened. The female android from before looked at the three of you, her LED spinning yellow for a moment. 

“Mr. Kamski will see you now,” she said, gesturing for you to enter into the mystery room. She smiled. You and Hank stood simultaneously. Connor stood back, unsure of how to proceed. Something about the situation felt strange to him. It was almost like he was… nervous? He ran self-checks, but his system seemed fine. Regardless, something wasn’t right.

You walked behind Hank, looking around the large room. A large painting adorned one wall, windows covering the other. There were a various doors that you assumed led to bedrooms, bathrooms, and other living spaces. In the center of the room was a pool. A man, who you assumed was Kamski, swam laps, unfazed at your arrival. Oddest of all was the amount of identical, blonde androids in the room. You wondered how many lived with Kamski, how often they got replaced…

“Mister Kamski?” Hank’s voice echoed around the chamber, bouncing off the waves of the pool. Delicate classical music played in the background, creating a sense of grandeur. 

Hank began to introduce the three of you, but your mind was elsewhere, ruthlessly examining the room. You weren’t brought back to Earth until you locked eyes with Connor, who’d been staring at you for a while now, watching as you processed your surroundings. Maybe it was you that was making him uneasy.

“And who is this?”

Elijah Kamski’s voice drew your attention as he exited the pool, water running in streams down his body. His eyes pierced through you. One of the androids brought him a robe, which he put on loosely. He began to walk towards you with caution, but he looked at you like he knew something no one else did. Like you were just another thing for him to examine.

Connor didn’t like the air about him. He ran test after test, zoning in on every aspect of Elijah Kamski. 

“My name is F/N L/N. I’m an agent with the FBI,” you swallowed as he approached you, looking down to meet your gaze. The room became tense. Connor found himself clenching his fists, and had to consciously relax himself.

“What can I do for you, agent?” Kamski said, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago, but, I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know,” Hank spoke up from behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder to pull you back. Kamski found this action amusing. He waved his arms as he spoke.

“Deviants,” he turned your back to you, facing his windows, “Fascinating, aren’t they,” He peaked at you over his shoulder, running his eyes slowly over you. “Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will. Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable,” he held his hands in front of him as he turned to face you. “Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn’t it ironic?”

Your mind buzzed with questions. “Let’s not talk morals. Do you have any answers? How androids become deviants, how the system functions? Why it’s spreading?”

His eyes flew to Connor, who hadn’t said a word since he’d entered the room. “All ideas are viruses, they spread like epidemics,” his eyes held Connor’s, like he was speaking to him, “Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

“Listen, we didn’t come here to talk philosophy,” Hank said, “The machines you created may be planning a revolution.”

“Lieutenant Anderson is right, either you give us information, or we can go.”

As if he didn’t hear either of you, Kamski walked towards Connor, his interest captured by the silence of the android. You found yourself in a defensive stance, preparing to make a hasty exit.

“What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

“All I want is to solve this case, Mr. Kamski. I’m here to complete a mission, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say… But you,” he took a step forward, inching closer and closer, “What do you really want.”

 

**_w^a@?n[!t_ **

 

Your heart was beginning to beat faster. You looked at Hank, hoping to give him some kind of nonverbal signal that you should get out of here, but he was focused on Connor.

“I don’t want anything. I am a machine.”

Connor’s answer shocked you. His voice was low, resigned. Emotionless.

“I don’t see what you’re getting at,” you piped up, finally finding your voice. Kamski laughed lightly at your protest.

“Chloe?”

One of the blonde androids stepped forward. Kamski backed off, approaching her. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, really.”

You pocketed your hands, “What does that have to do with—“

“A simple question of algorithms and computing capacity,” Kamski continued, standing behind the Chloe and positioning her in front of him. “What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it the Kamski test, it’s very simple, you’ll see.”

You looked at Connor. His LED was holding a steady yellow.

 

**_d?o I pa?ss th?is t?es?t??_ **

 

“Magnificent, isn’t it,” Kamski mused, “One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife. Young,” he touched the Chloe’s face, making her meet his eyes, “and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither.” There was a grain of emotion in his voice, a sense of attachment. For a moment, you recognized it, but he wiped it from his tone completely as he turned to the three of you again, “But what is it really— a piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living behind…” He turned, reaching to open the drawer of a coffee table that stood behind him. 

You wanted to put a hand on your weapon, but knew that there were other androids behind you. You had a taser tucked away as well, but you figured you’d be spotted trying to turn the safety off. You were trapped.

“…With a soul.” Kamski pulled a gun from the drawer. You heard it adjust in his hands as he loaded it, the sound echoing around the room, bouncing off the walls and reminding you that coming here was a terrible idea. He held it up, showing you that he wasn’t planning to hold anyone hostage. Then, he put a hand on the Chloe’s shoulder, and lowered her to her knees.

“It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor,” he raised Connor’s arm and pointed it at the Chloe’s head, “Destroy this machine, and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it’s alive. But you’ll leave here, not having learned anything.”

Hank spoke up then, “Okay I think we’re done here.” You gnawed at the inside of your cheeks.

“Connor, stop,” you took a few steps forward, lowering Connor’s arm rather forcefully. His expression was unreadable, although you could tell he was struggling to come to a conclusion.

“Interesting,” Kamski grinned at you, “Agent, if you don’t mind me asking, what makes you so sure of your decisions?”

You looked at him, hand still on Connor’s arm. He felt like he’d been rendered immobile, too caught up in his own programming to be of any use. He kept running tests, running through situations, to no avail. He mind steadied at the feeling of your hand.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’ve been looking this room over head to toe since you got in here, almost like,” Kamski feigned a gasp, “You’ve been programmed?”

You clenched your teeth. You could feel Hank’s stare boring into the side of your head, but you knew he wasn’t about to ask any questions. Maybe a part of him wanted to see how this would play out, you weren’t sure. 

“What are you implying…”

“Do you know why I left CyberLife?” Kamski circled around his android, coming to stand at your side, “Because I believed that a line should eventually be drawn between that,” he gestured to Connor and the Chloe, who was still kneeling on the ground, “and us.” He lifted a hand and delicately brushed your hair behind your right ear, “I’ve got a better test.”

He reached over and took the gun from Connor’s hand, “You can go now, Chloe,” he placed the gun in your hand, tapping you lightly as a sarcastic comfort. Then, he grabbed Connor’s arm and tugged him forward, placing him directly in front of you. Your heart was beating out of your chest, thoughts running through your mind a million miles per hour. Connor looked so defenseless. You ran through the scenarios over and _over_ _and_ _over_ **_and_** **_over_** **_and_** —

Hank held out his arms in protest, “This is getting out of hand, I think we should—“

“I think this will interest you, Lieutenant,” Kamski put a hand on the small of your back and leaned in beside your ear, “I know you already know all the options. I know you’ve already tried to figure a way out. I’ll give you your solutions: shoot him, you’ll get all the information that you need, you will progress your investigation. Or spare him, and prove to everyone in this room that you’re still a human being.”

**_all the information that you need_ **

You swallowed, sweat beading on your forehead despite the room being ice cold. Connor looked you dead in the eyes, his LED red. 

 

**_01110011 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100001 01110101 01110100 01101001 01100110 01110101 01101100_ **

 

**_still a human being_ **

 

In a single moment, you relaxed your shoulders, leveled your head, focused your vision, emptied your mind. You didn’t even flinch as you pulled the trigger. Droplets of blue blood landed on your cheeks, your ears ringing as the gunshot reverberated around the room.

Any life that Connor had in his eyes left as his body collapsed, a hole centered perfectly between his eyes.

“That’s what I thought…”

 

 

**_saving progress..._ **


	5. Just Keep Walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank offers you some advice on how to deal with the blue blood on your hands, and you finally reveal your big secret. Gavin is a dick. But not everything is as it seems...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends!  
> Thank you for all your comments-- SORRY NOT SORRY FOR THE LAST CHAPTER, HEHE. Maybe I'm a sadist, but I loved reading your shocked reactions. I know, I know, it's only been three days. But I HAD to publish something. This chapter is a little short, but I think the next one might be kind of long. So, enjoy!  
> -S

“Do you have any idea how difficult you’re making my job, Agent Perkins?” Fowler was sitting at his desk, holding the bridge of his nose. You stood opposite him, with Perkins to your right. “This is going to be very hard to fix. In fact, I don’t even know if it’s fixable. Your agent has made a _grave mistake_.” He shot you a look, eyes narrowed. You blinked.

“I apologize for any inconvenience that this has caused you, Captain. But as I’ve explained to you before, Agent L/N doesn’t necessarily make all of her own choices.”

Fowler laughed dryly, “How convenient.”

“Look, it’s not like that. Imagine your RK800, if he’d made a decision like this. Read the damn report, I mean, he could’ve just as easily shot that other android yesterday. But Kamski forced my agent’s hand, and she’s programmed to—“

“I’m not a child, Perkins. I don’t require duplicate explanations,” he sighed. “I’ve no idea what the repercussions are. Or what’s going to happen to you,” he pointed a finger in your direction. “If you’ll get shut off or what have you…”

“I’m not an android, Captain. I have some assistance, that’s all. Like Perkins was saying—“

“What the fuck did I say about explaining things to me. I get it,” he stood up from his chair. “I’m going to go get some coffee, and then I’m going to make some calls. You, on the other hand, get your team in check.”

Perkins nodded. You could see how hard it was for him to keep his mouth shut. The two of you followed Fowler out of his office before breaking off. Perkins pulled you aside.

“Why the _fuck_ did that go so wrong for you,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“You know as well as I do that I didn’t want to pull that trigger. But it was the best course of action.”

“Sure, too bad you didn’t get anything out of it.”

“Kamski was cryptic, yes. But we got the possible location of an android hideout. I’d say that’s pretty good,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Why are you defending yourself if you didn’t want to do it, huh? Jesus…” he ran a hand through his hair, turning away from you. He didn’t want to fight, you could read that much off him. So you watched as he walked off in frustration.

For the first time in several hours, you had a moment to yourself, to your thoughts. A heavy feeling of guilt settled in your gut. You’d been fighting back tears every since your emotional-blockers had shut off. The sound of the gun played over and over in your mind.

You walked quietly to the bathrooms, trying not to draw any attention to yourself. Word about what you’d done was already circling. Hank hadn’t said a word to you since you got back. In fact, you weren’t sure he’d said anything to anyone. He sat at his desk, head in his hands. You chewed the inside of your cheek as you walked faster to the bathroom, pressing your back to the inside of the door when you got there. It was empty.

A choked sob fought its way up your throat. You bit the soft part of your palm in an attempt to stay quiet, but couldn’t help the few cries that slipped out. You walked painfully to the mirror, hardly able to look at yourself. Blue blood stained the hem of your shirt. You hadn’t even bothered to change when you got up this morning, being that you didn’t have any clean clothes. Your memory of the walk to the hotel was foggy. It must’ve been three or four in the morning by the time you finally went to sleep after filling out all your paperwork. The blockers turned off sometime that morning. You were an emotional wreck, now.

_I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry._

The sight of the blood on your shirt made your chest tighten, the air leave your lungs. You tried to scrub it out with water, hands becoming raw from the heat of it. You scratched and scratched, drips trailing down your arms and dripping onto the floor. Lungs working too fast, hands working faster, you started to freak out. Eventually, you gave up, slamming your fists down on the counter, a yelp leaving your lips.

_What have I done. Oh my God what have I done. What have I done, what have I done. Connor…_

Tears streamed down your face. You turned on the sink to cold with trembling hands, tossing cold water onto your face. Suddenly, you were seized by a bought of nausea, and you gripped the sink as bile burned the inside of your mouth. You cupped water in your hand and rinsed out your mouth before turning the water off and drying your hands and face. 

You looked yourself in the eyes.

_“That’s what I thought…”_

_Kamski put a hand on the gun, lowering it for you. Your mind was empty. Everything was numb._

_“I could tell the moment you walked in here. I guess I’m a bit of a detective myself,” he chuckled. “I never liked the idea of cyborgs. The idea of controlling our humanity, repressing it._ Containing _it until it was convenient. Our emotions,” he walked towards Connor’s body, tapping it lightly with his foot, “Are what make us so special. Emotionally charged decisions are often the best ones. The whole logic-only thing,” he shook his head, “Just turns me off.”_

_“What information do you have.” Your voice was unrecognizable._

_“Hm,” Kamski crossed his arms, tilting his head to look at you, “Nothing your little chip can’t figure out on its own.”_

You shuddered, trying to get more oxygen into your body. The eyes you looked into, the face you saw, you knew it was yours. But behind the skin, the muscle, the bone, there was something there that wasn’t apart of you. 

You placed a hand on your right temple, wondering if Kamski had felt what you did when he brushed your hair behind your ear. If that was how he knew you had tech in your skull. When you pressed down, you could feel it there, a foreign object. A hiss escaped you. Sometimes it still hurt.

Once you’d gathered yourself a little bit more, you made your way out of the bathroom. Immediately, you bumped into someone. He smelled familiar…

“Look who it is, the sympathizer!” Detective Gavin’s voice was oddly cheerful as he ridiculed you, “No wonder— I’m sure it’s easier since you’re just one of them,” he scoffed, “And to think, I even thought you were a decent piece. Too bad.”

“You better watch your fucking mouth,” you clenched your jaw.

“Oh-ho-ho, whatcha gonna do, sweetheart? Shoot me?” He laughed.

“If you threaten me, yeah, I will.”

He looked you dead in the eyes, raising his arm and holding his hand to your forehead like it was a gun. “Was this how you did it? Or were you further away. Would’ve killed to see that little shit eat it,” he made a ‘boom’ noise with his mouth as he pretended to shoot you, “Just like that.”

“Leave her alone, dumbass.”

You leaned over to look past Gavin’s frame, seeing Hank down the hallway. Gavin turned around to look at him, lowering his hand. 

“What, defending this one, too, Anderson? Funny…”

“She isn’t an android. And she isn’t here for your entertainment.”

“Right, just to shoot valuable assets in the head, blow cases, and walk around lookin’ like—“

You grabbed his wrist and forced him up against the wall, pinning him there with his arm twisted behind his back. You said nothing, just held him there as he struggled, then released him after a few second. Hank huffed a laugh out his nose. Gavin looked at you in shock, but you didn’t stay to hear his retorts. You walked past Hank, back down the hallway to your desk. You ran your hands down your face, exhaustion seeping into your bones, your muscles, your mind. A hand on your shoulder spooked you out of your haze.

“Let’s get a drink,” Hank’s voice was gravelly. You figured he didn’t get much sleep either.

Without a thought regarding the protocol, you nodded, standing and grabbing your jacket. You followed him out of the precinct to his car. Your mind was still foggy, so you didn’t bother to pay much attention as to where you were going. You also couldn’t tell what Hank was feeling. Maybe he was pissed, maybe he was as empty as you were. Maybe he was relieved. 

The low hum of the radio was the only noise that filled the car. The song was slow, melancholic. The light outside was shrouded by the clouds that had filled the sky. Snow was piling up on the streets. Everything was grey.

Hank pulled over on the side of a street, parking outside a bar. It looked run down, but you didn’t care. You weren’t much of a drinker. But today…

It was four o’clock. 

Hank lead the way, opening the door like he lived there. A man stood behind the counter, washing out glasses and stacking them. A few lonely patrons littered the grungy tables, dim lights letting you see the dirt on the floors and walls. It reminded you of New York.

You followed Hank to the bar. He sat down in front of the small television that hung from the wall behind the bar. A baseball game was on.

“How’s it goin’ Hank,” the bartender grumbled.

“Whiskey, Jimmy. Make it a double.”

“That bad, huh,” Jimmy poured him a glass. He looked at you, “Same thing?”

You nodded. You didn’t have a preference. You also weren’t supposed to be drinking anything, but you were pretty committed to the idea of not being sober.

Jimmy put two glasses in front of you. Hank took a long swig before he finally looked over at you. He was leaning on his elbows, hands holding his glass, which he spun slowly.

“You gonna tell me what the fuck is up?”

You huffed a breath out your nose, “I don’t know where to start.”

Hank grunted, unsatisfied with your answer. “Let me remind you of my perspective,” he took another drink, setting his glass down louder than before. “We go to interrogate Kamski. Connor’s fine. You’re fine. Kamski gives you an offer, information for Connor’s life. Connor’s dead. You leave your fuckin’ body,” he shook his head, “I don’t know who the fuck shot Connor. Who helped me carry his corpse out of that mansion. Who rode back to the DPD in my car. Who filled out the paperwork. But _you_ came back this morning.”

“How could you tell?”

“Because I’ve been in worse pain than you, kid,” he looked you in the eyes. “I know what it looks like.”

There was a pause before he continued to pry you for information, “Who else knows about you?”

You sighed, “Fowler knows. Perkins knows, obviously. I…” You rubbed your eyes wearily. “I’ve got a chip in my head.” You kept your voice low, low enough that only Hank was going to hear you. When he didn’t respond, you continued, eyes averted. “Three years ago, I was made an offer. To be a lab rat, an experiment for the ‘future of law enforcement.’ They were going to put a chip in my brain,” you rubbed the right side of your head, “that would stop me from making ‘bad’ decisions. If at any point, I couldn’t make a big decision, like whether or not to pull the trigger on someone, it would block me from feeling fear, joy, anger, or grief, and it would make the decision for me based on the information I’d gathered. The same way an android makes choices, except I get to go back to being human afterwards,” you paused to look at Hank. His brows were furrowed, his glass was empty.

“So yesterday, you just shut off?”

“ _It_ shut me off. I hesitated. So it took over, for the sake of the investigation.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hank shook his head. “Why’d you agree to that?”

You took a sip of whiskey, the alcohol burning on the way down, “They told me it’d make me better.”

“That’s it?”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes…”

Hank nodded knowingly. “Guess that’s true.”

Silence took a seat between you then as you escaped to your own thoughts. Hank watched the game, Jimmy cleaned the bar. You picked at your nails, uninterested in drinking much more. The thought of throwing up again made the whiskey more unappetizing than before when you were upset.

After about ten minutes, you spoke up, “I know you aren’t really the _feelings_ type. I’m not either. But—“

“You can talk to me, kid,” Hank said, his attention still focused on the game.

You took in a deep breath. “I feel awful. I feel like I killed someone, even though he’s just an android. It’s like, I don’t know, he was just so _real_ ,” your throat ached as you struggled through your own thoughts, “He was so nice. I felt hostage to my own body, my own mind, when I fired that gun.”

Hank kept quiet, but you knew he was listening. You had a feeling he’d been through something similar himself.

“How do you go back? H-How do you move forward after you fuck up so bad?” You voice shook slightly as you gripped your glass, “How do you tell yourself something was bad when a perfect machine rationalizes it for you…”

Hank turned his body so that he was facing you. He lifted his hand like he was going to put it on your shoulder, or maybe your arm, as a form of comfort, but he retracted and thought otherwise.

“You don’t go back. You can only go forwards,” he sucked in a breath, “When life fucks you over, you get up, and you keep walking. You hurt, you keep walking. You suffer, you keep walking. On days when you’re numb, you keep walking. On days when you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders, remember every shitty thing you’ve ever done, hear every shout, smell every drop of blood,” he exhaled, “You just keep walking.”

It was simple. But effective. Hank’s words grounded you to reality a little bit more, and as you mulled it over, you knew he was right. It was your only option. That much you could decide for yourself.

You drank the rest of your whiskey then, and the two of you watched the rest of the game before riding back to the precinct. It was silent, mostly because you were both okay with silence. But it was nice to have someone with you. It was nice to have someone with you who knew how you felt.

Most of the other officers had left by the time you got back. Hank said he had some paperwork to finish up, then he was headed out. He offered to drive you to the hotel, but you said you wanted to walk. You also needed to stop by a store and pick up some more clothes, a warmer jacket, some toiletries. 

You also wanted some time to think, get some air. A walk might be good for you.

About an hour after Hank left, you finished the last of your paperwork. You also had to re-read the reports you’d filed the night before since you didn’t remember writing them. They were exact, of course, absent of bias. Like a robot had done it.

The lights began to dim, which you took as your cue to leave. You grabbed your jacket, slipping it on over your aching shoulders. The sound of your footsteps bounced off the walls of the empty precinct. As you reached the security gate, you remembered you’d left your phone in your desk. You swiveled quickly. 

“I really am out of it,” you mumbled to yourself as you unlocked the drawer and retrieved your phone, pocketing it. “I should try to get a full night’s sleep…”

“That would be advisable.”

Your head snapped to the side, eyes searching the dim room for the source of that voice. Your heart was pounding. The blood drained from your face, eyes stinging as you saw his figure on the other side of the room.

He looked just the same. He looked calm. He looked perfect. 

“My name is Connor, I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

 

 

**saving progress…**


	6. Not Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor isn't dead. But is he alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends!  
> Thank you for your patience. College is very time consuming. Finally got this chapter finished up, although it's short. I have a particular way I like to separate events. So just like the game, some chapters are a little shorter than others.   
> Thank you for all the amazing support! Your comments blow me away. Love you all!  
> -S

**_system check…_ **

**_system initiating…_ **

**_errors found: (0)_ **

**_mind palace functional:_ **

**_opening software {AMANDA}_ **

 

Connor opened his eyes and looked around at the zen garden. Not much had changed, at least not at first glance. There was a ringing in his ear. Information, ones and zeroes, shuffled through his mind like a deck of cards as he tried desperately to remember what happened. At the cusp of realization, his hand went almost instinctively to his forehead. He touched it delicately. 

Where there should’ve been a hole, there was nothing. Just his artificial skin and plastic bones. Where there should’ve been blood, there was nothing. Only droplets of rain that had begun to fall and collect on him. Where there should’ve been pain…

**_There was nothing_ **

He gripped the umbrella that was in his hand and opened it, walking on the right side of the path like he was being lead in that direction. That’s when he saw it.

A tombstone. His tombstone.

Connor kneeled down, careful not to press his freshly cleaned jeans into the ground too hard. His fingertips dusted lightly over his own name, his ID, the date and location of his death. He clearly— _vividly_ — remembered now what happened, but felt nothing as it came to him in pieces. He stood, adjusting his umbrella and continuing along the path until he spotted Amanda. She was approaching him slowly, arms crossed. Connor lowered his eyes slightly.

“It’s impolite not to share your umbrella,” she commented, her tone neutral.

“Right, sorry,” Connor shook his head and held the umbrella out so it was covering Amanda. They began to walk together along the edge of the pond. There was an odd air about the garden.

“It’s unclear whether you’ve failed or completed your last mission,” she said bluntly. “But the version of you that visited Kamski was terminated.”

“I know.”

“Do you remember who shot you?” She questioned.

“Agent F/N L/N. She fired point blank at my skull from a distance of five feet, seven inches.”

“And how do you feel?”

Connor didn’t hesitate to answer, “I feel nothing. I only understand that I have failed my mission. I now plan to see it to fruition.”

Amanda nodded, stopping to place a hand on Connor’s shoulder. He faced her squarely and met her eyes. There was nothing behind them. She was unreadable to him.

“I’ve warned you before about making sure this is completed, Connor. I know you understand, so I won’t repeat myself, but,” she raised her chin, effectively looking through him, “If you allow this person to intervene again, I will replace you.”

Connor nodded.

 

**_self diagnostic complete…_ **

**_running secondary self check…_ **

**_errors found (0)_ **

**_discrepancies found (0)_ **

**_malfunctions found (0)_ **

**_checking biocomponents_ **

**_no errors_ **

**_Evaluation Complete_ **

**_Closing Program {AMANDA}_ **

 

**saving progress…**

 

Connor’s motors hummed as the automatically driven taxi buzzed through the low-lit Detroit streets. Snow fell lightly from the sky, making everything seem grey and lifeless. People were inside, making dinner, watching tv. Children were doing homework and making Christmas lists. The taxi passed a group of teens on the street, huddled in a circle. Somewhere a dog was barking. It was cold.

The taxi slowed to a stop outside the Detroit police station. Connor looked briefly at the parking lot. Except for the few spare police cars that were there, it was empty. Fresh footprints were dusted with new snow, and Connor gathered that the last few people working were gone. He’d have to wait until tomorrow to introduce himself to everyone. For now, he’d spend a few hours scanning the deviant cases, the reports, the news coverage. Maybe there was something he missed, although that was highly unlikely.

He walked towards the front doors, noticing a dim light through the window. It was coming from a computer. 

**_Who’s still here at this hour? What are they working on? What clearance do they have?_ **

Connor adjusted his volume and listened for suspicious activity as he entered the building, quietly closing the door behind him. Something told him there was no reason to be so on edge; the odds that someone had broken in were slim. But he couldn’t be too careful.

He heard the metal lock of a desk drawer, the breaths of someone younger than the average officer. The shuffling of clothes. He was surprised when he felt nothing.

“I really am out of it… I should try to get a full night’s sleep.”

Something about the sound of your voice set him off. He’d had all his memories transferred successfully, he knew that his prior was becoming deviant. And yet, your warm and cynical lull, the smell of your perfume, the wrinkles in your tight pants…

It pissed him off.

“That would be advisable,” he said, his tone completely neutral. 

**_Why am I acting this way…_ **

You turned to look at him then, your mouth gaping just slightly, your arms beginning to quiver, your knees taught and defensive, your eyes begging, just _begging_.

“My name is Connor, I’m the android sent by CyberLife,” he said, taking a few steps towards your desk where you stood. Your heart rate accelerated, your breathing was shallow, your mouth was dry, your eyes were beginning to water. 

He should’ve felt nothing.

You gripped your desk in utter disbelief. It was hard for your mind to wrap itself around the fact that you had killed this… android. You killed him, and here he was, standing directly in front of you, not a single scar. In your mind you knew that wasn’t to be expected, that they could just rebuild him over and over and over and over and over and over. But it was still Connor. 

It would always just _still be Connor._

“You’re alive…”

“I’m not, I’m an android.” The sound of his voice made you want to collapse on the floor.

“What are you doing here?”

“Agent, my purpose is the same, the only difference is—“

“I didn’t want to shoot you. I didn’t…,” your throat was hoarse and tight as you spoke through the guilt you were riddled with. At any moment you knew your blockers could kick in, but you didn’t want them to. You wanted him to see you like this. “I didn’t ever want to hurt you. It wasn’t me pulling that trigger, it was—“

“I know,” Connor pocketed his hands. “Agent, would you like to sit down?”

You nodded, pulling out your chair and plopping down, grasping your aching head.

“I understand why you did what you did. I’ll remind you that I’m not alive, I felt no pain.”

“Oh God, you _remember_ …” Tears dripped undramatically down your face.

Connor hated to see you cry. But there was some kind of sick satisfaction watching you grieve him. He didn’t know why he liked it.

Your mind was muddled. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Agent.”

“Stop calling me _Agent_.”

“What would you prefer I call you?”

You looked up and met his gaze. Your eyes flickered from his right to his left, desperately looking for some kind of sign that the Connor you knew, the one who couldn’t bring himself to shoot that Chloe, the one who walked you to your hotel just to talk to you, was still there.

You stood then, and walked towards him slowly. He didn’t move, but analyzed your body language in an attempt to determine your intention. But you did something he wouldn’t have otherwise expected.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his chest, and hugged him. Firmly. Like he was alive.

You closed your eyes and breathed in deeply, gathering the thoughts you had while you still could.

“I know you felt what it was like the die on that rooftop. I know that feeling doesn’t just go away. I know that it changes you,” you paused, “Which means that I know you’re still different. Because I didn’t give you death alone, I gave you a complete understanding of it. Which I think gave you some life. And while I still feel like shit, I still hate myself for… I know you aren’t just an android.” Your eyes stayed closed, and you listened to the thrum of his mechanical heart in his chest, feeling like for once it might be real.

“I’m scared you’re right.”

Connor’s fans buzzed a little louder as he processed what exactly was happening. He moved his arms slightly, resting them on your back. He pressed his nose into the top of your head.

“No,” you smiled. You pulled back and looked at Connor, his eyes finally proving something to you. “You _know_ I’m right.”

 

**saving progress…**

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not exactly sure how many chapters I'm going to write, but I do know exactly how I want this to end. So be prepared for that.
> 
> This will most likely be shorter than Purgatory.
> 
> Love you guys!


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